12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 8

The pit bull is snoozing next to me all cozy on the fleece blanket, right where he should be.

Some days you are quickly reminded that your friends will be there when you need them. Late yesterday afternoon we helped search for Trudy, a hound dog being fostered by our friend Melissa from the dog park.

Being a hound, Trudy followed her nose and ran off after a scent. The scent led her along the shoreline at the dog park, which however, leads under a state highway to another park that's vastly larger. Trudy, who is available for adoption from the Quincy Animal Shelter, had been missing nearly 3 hours by the time we showed up at the park, and she could have been anywhere in the miles and miles along the river or through the woods between Hingham and Weymouth. And honestly, the idea of her being lost in the woods was not nearly as bad as the idea of her trying to cross the busy, busy road to get back to the dog park as it got dark.

Trudy is a really nice dog, but is wary, and not likely to come to someone she isn't too familiar with. And if she's scared, she'll bark at you, so catching her was going to be a challenge even if it wasn't getting cold and dark.

Dozens of people helped look for Trudy. The kids, Jim and our friend Kevin, along with the dogs, decided to look at the bigger park as darkness fell. We could hear a hound barking and more than than a dozen people helped move her through the woods to a spot where another group could catch her.

Trudy was safe, making for a heart-warming happy ending to the evening for both the dog and her foster mom, who works so hard to take care of her. The heart-lifting part of the story, though, is seeing how many people helped look for her without a thought and without being asked.

Given the size of the area Trudy was in, as well as its challenges -- the road, the weather, the water, the darkness, the coyotes -- it's hard to imagine the story could have had the same outcome without them.

Come hell or any water

The dog does not like water except to drink. He made that very clear early on when I had to drag him out for business in the rain. Hathaway's fur is very short, a lot like a horse's coat, actually. When he gets wet, he is instantly wet to the skin. He hates it.

But his dislike of water goes beyond that. He doesn't like to get his paws wet. It's pretty funny to watch him try to get through a puddle without getting his paws wet. Maybe if I lift this paw, I won't feel it. It's still there. Maybe if I lift this paw, I won't feel it ... nope ... maybe if I lift this paw ...

And yes, he can balance on two legs but hasn't figured out how to move forward. Usually he tries to go around puddles or stay under the umbrella.

Today, a nor'easter is blowing through, but it wasn't too bad early this morning when we headed to the dog park and he actually hopped out of the car for a walk. It was drizzling, but we walked the loop, then played with the other hearty souls who were out. Even played a little fetch and I managed not to throw the ball into a puddle. (When that happens, I'm the fetcher all of a sudden &@!*#$.)

But then it started to rain harder. Hathaway looked at me, then trotted off at a brisk pace. I thought he was getting the ball until he went right past it. It took another 20 yards before I realized he was headed for the car. He didn't look back once and he didn't stop until he got there.

Meet the pit bull in my bed

This is Hathaway. We found him at the animal shelter in Brockton, Mass., quite by accident, but sometimes that's the best way of finding something.

When we went to look at the dogs, I had no intention of bringing one home, especially not a 2-year-old male pit bull with the head the size of a battering ram. But he looked at me with his big brown eyes. And the kids looked at me with their big violet and hazel eyes, respectively. And then they used logic.

"Can we just take him for a walk?"

They didn't say "sucka," but they might as well have been thinking it. We walked Hathaway and played with Hathaway and wrestled with Hathaway and petted Hathaway. His kisses weren't slobbery. He didn't look like he shed much. He didn't bark. He was housebroken. He listened to commands. And he was really cool looking.

But that day, we left him there. Still had to think about a 2-year-old pit bull "mix." And not just that -- he had a skin issue and was already returned once because of separation anxiety. He had broken two crates and a door. Apparently his head was shaped like a battering ram for a reason.

I went back twice to visit and play with him and talk to the staff at the shelter -- formerly the MSPCA and now the Animal Protection Center of Southeastern Mass. I said I had to be sure with two young kids in the house. The caregivers said fostering was an option.

We brought him home on Aug. 29, adopted him outright on Sept. 10, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Life with Hathaway is a daily adventure, to be chronicled here daily, with any luck. The goal is to entertain doggy style and maybe to show pit bulls in a different light.